


In The Dark

by maitimiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time, M/M, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-26 04:06:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17738720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maitimiel/pseuds/maitimiel
Summary: Túrin questions his relationship with Beleg after yet another skirmish puts his life at risk.





	In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaisingCaiin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaisingCaiin/gifts).



He stood for a moment under the doorframe peering into the dark chamber. The last remnants of natural light bled into the room through small, nearly invisible cracks on the flank of the mountain, long white lines that stretched towards the lone figure on the other side of the room like greedy, hungry fingers. Beleg went to him and placed the large candlestick he was holding at the table in front of him, wishing the darkness away. 

"That was unwise," Beleg spoke into the silence, fully knowing Túrin wouldn't listen to him anyway. "You could have been killed. Easily."

Túrin was sitting at the edge of a crude bench, wrapping a dirty-looking strip of fabric around his own chest. He didn't look up when Beleg spoke, but his lips did curl upwards.

"I wasn't," he replied simply, tucking the end of the fabric away and pulling his tunic over it. Beleg wondered when he'd got so used to seeing his friend bleed. He crouched in front of him and gently covered the injury with his hands, whispering words of healing and safety. Túrin closed his eyes. 

"You could have," Beleg said softly, and Túrin said nodded silently. 

Túrin walked alone to their cot, and Beleg followed. He pulled the furs over both of them, and clasped Túrin's hand in his own. Túrin brought it to his lips for just a second, and Beleg fell asleep to the sound of his evening breath.

* * *

It was the cold that woke him.

The candles had burned to the end, and at night the cracks on the ceiling only let in the icy wind from outside. If Beleg could, he would install fireplaces in every single room in the mountain. No -- if the choice was his, they wouldn't be buried under stone to begin with. His eyes searched in the dark for Túrin, finding the shape of his back as he sat up facing away from him. Beleg pushed himself onto his elbows with a question on his tongue, but Túrin spoke first.

"You think I don't think about death, but I do. I always do."

"I'm -" Glad? Relieved? None of those sounded appropriate. Beleg was rarely sure of what he felt, these days.

"What would do?" Túrin asked, still not turning to him.

"I'd go mad." The words jumped out of him unchecked, but Beleg knew them to be true all the same.

Túrin let out an unamused chuckle. Could have been a cough. 

"So you say." 

The words cut like a knife. 

"Have I given you reason to doubt me?"

"I know how much you'd like to leave." the words sounded bitter, icy in the cold room. Beleg knelt on the bed, fighting the temptation to touch Túrin's shoulder, to bring him into his arms as he used to do, to soothe him and lock the rest of the world outside.

"Not without you. Never without you."

Túrin's fingers flexed on the covers before he moved, crawling towards him on the bed until his face was only centimeters away from Beleg's. " _Why?_ "

He looked into Beleg's eyes as if he could extract answers from them by sheer force of will, as if they contained the solution to a puzzle that'd eaten at him for thousands of years. Be he hadn't lived through thousands of years, thought Beleg, and he never would. Beleg knew what answers he wanted, had known for a while. But if he gave them up, what would become of them? 

"You are to me as my own heart. I couldn't bear to be parted from you."

"You still deny me." Túrin's low voice seemed to echo around them in accusation. Beleg swallowed drily. 

"I do not wish to."

"But you do."

"Yes." 

" _Why?_ " He repeated, a hand resting against Beleg's chest, over his heart, and Beleg shuddered, not allowing himself to reach out, incapable of moving away.

"It is myself that I deny, in this matter."

"You don't answer my question."

Beleg closed his eyes, a lone tear running down his face. He vaguely registered Túrin's hand felt warm against his skin, perhaps warmer than it should.

"You'll be the one to leave me." 

"You don't know that," Túrin replied, not without compassion. 

"One way or another, this cannot last."

"Look at me."

Beleg obeyed and was shocked to see the fire with which Túrin looked at him. He lifted a hand tentatively to touch his face, and Túrin pushed him back until he was lying down again, Túrin settled between his thighs.

"You're the one I love the most," He spoke, voice heavy with emotion, "If we may die tomorrow, let us have now. Let us have _this_."

He ran a hand along Beleg's side, and the elf shivered.

" _Túrin!_ " He began to speak, or he thought to speak. The next moment, Túrin was kissing on the lips, open-mouthed and intimate, and Beleg lost his train of thought. " _Let me_ ", his friend said again, and Beleg couldn't think of ever not letting him have anything he wanted. 

They kissed for a long time, fiery at first, but growing slower and deeper. Túrins breathing grew more labored and he had both his arms wrapped around Beleg, holding him so close as if he wanted to meld their bodies into one. Beleg ran a hand through Túrin's hair, a movement he'd done before a million times, and yet it felt like something was inherently different, _better_ this time. He didn't keep his lips to Túrin's mouth, exploring his neck, his throat, every bit of him he could reach, unhurried where Túrin was impatient. 

Time seemed to blur as they got lost into each other's bodies, new and familiar all the same. Beleg wasn't sure what he was saying out loud, or what he was hearing, until Túrin finally pulled away, seemingly with great effort. 

"What is it?" Beleg asked, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. Túrin looked both determined and vulnerable at once as he knelt back, eyes holding Beleg in place.

"I want you," He said unwaveringly, "Show me." 

Beleg swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded, speechless. Túrin pulled his tunic off, throwing it to the side.

And exposing the rather large bandage wrapped haphazardly around his chest. Beleg's fingers were drawn to it, touching softly where he knew the injury was. Túrin winced almost imperceptibly, to anyone who wasn't Beleg. 

"Does it hurt much?" He asked gently. Túrin shrugged. 

"Not that much." His hands moved to the hem of Beleg's own clothes. Beleg raised his arms to allow him, and then he knelt as well and tenderly pulled Túrin into his arms, kissing him almost chastely. 

"Lie down," He whispered, and his friend did as told, expectantly. 

Beleg made sure not to rest his weight fully on Túrin when he lowered himself to kiss his lips again. He worked his way down slowly, licking his chest and teasing his nipples, hands working deftly to release Túrin's cock as he went, treasuring every groan and whine he could draw from him. When Beleg finally tasted Túrin's erection, he was panting. Beleg grabbed his hand, to ground him or himself, probably both of them. 

Túrin held him tightly after, and fell asleep against his shoulder. Beleg held one of his hands still, wishing against all reason he could keep this moment, sated and quiet, for the rest of his life. He looked at his friend's young, unconcerned face, and let out a sigh. Holding Túrin's hand over his heart, he closed his eyes and let the warmth of his body lul him to sleep.


End file.
